Is there some document somewhere that lines out the variations between undergrad and grad expectations?

And does it somewhere state that the professors no longer need to ask for rationale/explanation if that's what they are looking for? "Which stage of blah blah blah do you identify with?"
Just because I'm in post secondary ed here am I supposed to automatically assume the "and why?" portion of every poorly written question?

I mean, am I just being petty here?

Also, how does this coincide with my current inability to dig the hole to plant my weeping willow and seeming technological incompetence? (And why).

Every time I start a load of laundry I realize I want a shower.

Also, if you notice signs of me becoming that guy that yells at people from his driver's seat for others making honest mistakes while driving, please let me know.

Summer and the fireflies are coming. I don't know if I'm relieved or worried.

Who else Tweets (or 'twats')?

I'm 'feckalyn' and haven't said a thing in nearly a year but I got an itch today for some reason and want an audience/someone else to listen to.

I got yet another beautiful ring (that isn't this one) today. And some awesome huge blue-lensed sunglasses. Pictures will eventually follow. I believe I have a voice post a brewin' as well.

My mom was here for nearly a week and flew away this afternoon and I'm sad and relieved all at once. Not unlike how I feel about my changing marital status. Though I'm less relieved and more sad about my mom's departure than my divorce at this moment. (Subject to change within a nanosecond of course).

Work is work. I somehow managed to leap straight into one of the evilest corporations on the planet but I'm not in it alone so I'm not too frightened.

I'm taking myself off the new med (no names, let's just say there is a commercial for it and I don't really feel like admitting that I even took it briefly) because it makes me feel like I want to run but I'm coating in a hundred pounds of cement. Back to the drawing board me thinks.

Lastly, mauveine, I can't say I blame you for that last comment in relation to wiseacre. I would have deleted it too ;)

(Maybe I am the evilest corporation on the planet.....)

I woke up this morning with the most wonderful sense of calm.

I was visited by some sort of divine being and told (in a way that I could not even consider doubting) that we are all doing important things and that no matter what happens along the way we are protected and to just keep on keeping on.

I feel a bit like Howard Beal from Network today.

I met with Walter at the bank to notorize the divorce papers. I will file on Monday. The divorce will likely be finalized by the end of May. I always seem to manage to create chaos and the end of May but this time I am ready for this step and it is a relief.

I am woefully behind on your lives, but believe I am still thinking of you. Even dreaming of you and how great you are making the world. What more can you ask really?

I want this ring in pine or sage but it's too expensive so I got this one instead. It's by a local glass artisan. I ordered another similar one. I'm obsessed with wearing rings on my 'wedding' finger. I've got 4 others that I rotate in and out but can't wear to work because they are all nickel and my hand washing wrecks them. And we simply can't have that.

( Lookee lookee )

I'm officially going to grad school.

I am accepted into the Family Nurse Practitioner Program and UMKC.

My Nintendo DS bit the dust this week too! Right in the middle of my obsession with the new Castlevania too :(

( On a lighter note, here's some pictures I took/received the last few weeks. )

So, as you can see, things aren't nearly as dreary as I like to make them sometimes. I've also been cooking and eating amazing things with my new squeeze.

So yeah, sometimes I feel put upon by the day to day. But mostly the day to day is what I live for.

Lastly, listen to this song. You will love it as much as I do, I just know it.

We saw Andrew Bird on Monday in Lawrence.

I seem to be the minority on this, but I do not find his seemingly increasing ticks and fades out of reality "cute". As the show progressed I became more and more certain that he is going mad with music and it's not in a good way.

They encored with this and I started to sob.

I must mention that I was very hormonal and he looks an awful lot like my dead dad; that aside though, I'm worried about him.

Isn't it strange how he engenders such a feeling of intimacy; of personal knowledge? It's like some version of anthropomorphic phallacy. Like I can see INTO him and know. I just see him declining while most everyone else sees him as precious. I am in no way besmirching his musical prowess (though, he was off key and tempo quite a bit and forgot a few lyrics), nor his preciousness. I adore his talent. I just don't want to lose him.

I raised $50 for feckalyn.org and thank you all for donating and putting up with my pandering. It shant happen again for another 11 months and three weeks (and who knows, maybe by then it won't be necessary at all!)

Makes me think of my favorite Jim Morrison poem (that I believe he somehow wrote about me).



Open

The night is young and full of rest
I can't describe the way she's dressed
She'll pander to some strange requests
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest



I'm home. Doing business. Cleaning my self-cleaning oven for the first time since I purchased it four years ago. Fighting a cold with my arsenal of zinc, vitamin c, fluids, bed, and videos.

I find myself jealous of pictures I keep seeing in other people's journals. They are so much crisper and the colors richer than what my camera gives me. Camera envy *sigh*.

I'm working on keeping my scared and bruised heart open. It is tricky. Sometimes I don't even see myself pushing people away and slamming down the walls. I'm getting better though.

And that, my friends, is enough randomness for now.

Here's a song I like today.

In fact, I'm going to upload the entire Hedwig soundtrack with the Wig in a Box tribute in my next post. It's a must listen.

Here's a few of my favorite moments made possible by feckalyn.org. I'm hoping they are some of yours.

Most of us met over The Everyday Bodies Project, which originally was conceived by me and born on feck.org and vaginapagina.

Then there was the 90's compendium. That was a huge collaborative project that kept us occupied for months. I've been thinking about an encore on that one. If anyone is intrigued I'm willing to reupload any or all of it the tracks. Most of the tracklists are embedded into the posts as you go.

The peekchers and the music!¹ How I love posting and sharing them.

And who can forget Jeffrey,² The Jiggler, this jewel of a dream involving Sara Jessica Parker, and just plain realness.

I'm closer to my goal than when I started and I heartily thank those who have donated. You rock (and need to let me know if you want a cd).

¹ I am such a pirate. But I'd rather be a ninja.
² If you're wondering why I haven't mentioned Jeffrey in forever it is because he died. It's a bit of a story and I haven't quite had it in me to tell it yet. When I'm at work some days I feel him still and it's a happy thing. I just miss his childlike grins and obvious teenage boy crush. He was my darling. A few days after I left my last job he pulled his catheter out of his chest and refused to have another one put in and told everyone he was done with dialysis and ready to die. He wasn't really competent to make that decision on his own but they honored it anyway and he died at home with his sister. It was the right time.

feckalyn.org expires 3/1/09 and I need $110. I know I am probably the only A-Hole on your flist who does this annually (in an economy slowly circling the drain no less, who does she think she is?). I even second guess myself every year, thinking that my readership goes waaaaaaaay down during pledge drive week here at feckalyn, but that's just the natural order of things right? You all eventually come back, right?

We all know I'm no writer, artist, musician, seductress, comedian, or popularity contest winner but I'd like to think I've got a little of each of those things in me that come together magically on occasion to make what I do here (and on feckalyn.org by proxy) worth a few of your hard earned dollars. (Especially the couple of you that have mentioned a desire to *ahem, how should I put this politely* get to know me carnally.) You can't really put a price on it, but if I've touched your heart in the last year maybe it's worth a little kick down (for some reason that came out as "lick down" at first but we're not going there.)

If I don't renew all the photos, songs, and other gems I've shared with you over the last 4 years vanish into the nethers of some unfortunate unplumbed underworld. (And even I'm not going down there to get them again.)

In return I'll gladly make you a personal mix cd. I've been told I'm quite good at it. They even come in patented 'spin-n-sniff' technology.

Hey, maybe I can even promise less whining this year!

So just think about it. And then click this button. And keep reading.

And if it pisses you off that I do this, click the button below this one and tell me! Communication baby, that's where it's at.

Have you seen my old-lady tortoise shell big sunglasses? I've got them on my list of things to find but they remain lost. I stopped reading Coraline because it seemed too sad and frightening but I will see the movie on Valentine's. Do not believe that dastardly Red Baron when he tells you to cook his pizzas for 24 minutes. He just wants you to burn them (but not before you smell how yummy they smell) and have to go buy another.

I've been procrastinating going and taking my written test for my Motorcycle Endorsement on my driver's license since the beginning of August. I haven't been able to place my finger on why but whatever.

Today the guilt got so great I finally did it.

Hypothetically I really could slide by without the endorsement. The law in Missouri says scooters with engines over 49cc's require special operator licensing but I doubt the average cop pulling me over is going to know the difference between a 50cc and a 150cc. Again, whatever.

First off I decide to go downtown to the DMV. I think I know where it is. No worries, I'll GPS it with my new phone. FUN! ADVENTURE! Right? Uh, not so much. The robot lady kept yelling at me for getting off course by following her directions. "Go one tenth of a mile and turn right." Ok, did that. "YOU ARE NOW OFF COURSE." Uh, what? And then when I gave up and decided to navigate myself she decided I was, indeed, going the right way again. It was odd. (I'm very new to this whole computerized navigation idea and am still forming opinions. Thus far I'm 50/50.)

I arrive at my destination (part of the 50% positive of my GPS is it reminds me of Rad Racer because the destination is marked by the black and white checkered flag) and pull into the parking lot. Which is packed. Oh, it's noon. Ooops. I pull into the last open parking spot and realize they are metered. Yes, METERED. At the DMV. I scrabble for all my available change (which totals about 85 cents in dimes and nickles and a buck in pennies *which the meter does not accept*) and plop it in. I somehow end up with an hour and 48 minutes. Certainly enough time, yes? Dear god. What if it's not? A parking ticket? I'm just here trying to be a lawful citizen. *Deep breaths while gathering all my documents and purse, looking for the Klonipin* Walk into this huge room with two separate lines. One says "vehicle registration" one says, "licensing". Ok, this relates to licensing. Boy, I wish there was someone to ask....Ok. It says to take a number. Hmm, there don't appear to be any numbers left in this thing. Umm. Hello? Guy gets up and tries to pry the number giver open and fails and sits down. I give it another whirl and manage to get a number out and sit down. Thirty minutes go by, all the while I'm thinking, "Dammit, I just know I'm in the damn wrong place. I even walked to a couple of the surrounding offices but none of the people in them would even respond when I spoke to them! So I went back and sat amongst the trodden masses. Finally they called my number and I got to the window and, predictably, was told that I was in the wrong place. "Sorry hon, you need to go down to G1 for that..." "Ok, is there any way that you could maybe put up a sign indicating that so other people don't have to sit and wait 30 minutes to be told they were in the wrong place?" "Uh, well, we usedta have a lady who sat there..." she mumbled. "Do I have to wait in the line again when I come back up?" I say. "Yeah...sorry!"

Ok, find the elevator. Find G1. Oh jeez. State Trooper acting officious. Oh dear. Smile pretty for the officer. Make joke. What if it's been too long since you took that class and he makes you go and take the road test. OMG. Ok, he's loosening up. Ok. Nerves need to stop jangling now. Test to take. Ok Marge, stop talking about your dog so I can take this damn test. You too Leon. I'm sorry about your bunion. Oh shit, how much time is left on my meter? Am I going to go back up there and get my driver's license redone while I'm here? I look like anxious cold poop. Maybe I can stop in the bathroom and paint the poop up a bit...ok, focus. Test. How many people are up there by now? I bet the line is out the door. I don't have any change left for the meter. I certainly don't want to come back here again. Shit, I can't tell if that is the front or that back of the motorcycle in that picture. Skip that question for now. Hmm. I'm only going to answer the ones I know. Only missed two so far. Got 16 right. Oh wow, I got 21 right and missed 2 and they called it good and passed me. Yay! Time for some sparkles and eyebrows for my new photo.

T-23 minutes on the meter. Learned that the ticket is $35 in the stairwell on my way back up here. Hurryhurryhurry. Number 77, serving number 68 now. Two people at the counter. Moving pretty quickly. I wonder if I can get them to take my hyphenated name off my license? Hmm. 72 and 16 minutes left. Txtng and checking email. Where's my wallet? Ok, there it is. 73 didn't have her birth certificate and had to leave. 74. 75. 14 minutes. Starting to contemplate pan handling some of the people around me but most of them look considerably less well-off than me and that would just be wrong. "Hey, can I trade you a hand full of pennies for a quarter?" I say, demurely. "WHAT YOU TALKIN' 'BOUT HONKEY?" is the resounding cry from the crowd as I run, ashamed, from the room. 76. 12 minutes. 77. Woot. Here's all my documents. Here's my check. Can you just use my original last name? Here's my social security card showing that it is indeed my name. You can? Fabulous. Take my picture now? Absolutely. All done? Awesome! 10 minutes left! And *phew* it's done. And, for once, the picture almost doesn't resemble the elephant woman.

I loathe poorly run bureaucracies. Is there such a thing as a well run bureaucracy though?

( Color fiddling is fascinating )

Follow me my pretties! I shant lead you astray.

Top 5 comedies ATM...GO!

( Help settle a dispute )

Can anyone say, "Awwwwwwwww"?

Ok, I called a lawyer.

She was cool. Listened to a brief description of the situation. Said no lawyer in town would touch such a "small" case with a twenty foot pole and then advised me to counter offer and gave me some reasons to site.

Awesome.

I called the adjuster and left a message stating I'd thought more about her offer and felt that I could take no less than $6000 and that I'd be expecting her return call with her counter offer.

And then I finally got on the ball (thanks to my friend livejournal-less Susie) and officially applied for that Family Nurse Practitioner Program in Fall of 2009.

Much has been accomplished today.

And my beloved tinybirds reappeared from the ether. *happy sigh*

"The way that the hair comes out of your head is very attractive."

"God was in a good mood when he made you."

"Are you married? 'Cause I'm 92 and single and there's just something about the way you talk to people that I like..."

"Thank you for your patience and your kindness."

My sweat often smells of cumin.

I am not the least bit ashamed of my 'camel toe'. (Though my mother insists the term is more accurately 'camel nose' after some examination of me in my 'camel toe enhancing pants'. Prior to this event my mother was unfamiliar with the terminology.) I don't understand what's so taboo about them.

Sometimes I just feel like being in bed with a book, heating pad, and some cats. Sometimes I can even do that without feeling guilty.

I think people who don't know me frequently misinterpret my sense of humor.

I recently starting driving a stick shift again and kill it at least once a week (well, more when attempting to parallel park on a hill but I just really don't think that counts, do you?).

I thrive on organization but am often the owner of many piles of unfiled documents.

I don't always know how to answer the question, "What do you like to do?"

Care to add anything? (About me or about you)

My mom is a South Park fan and described a velour jacket that she was given for her pug thusly:

"It looks like something Kenny's family would buy him if they had money."

Can't you just picture it?

Also, Warren Zevon's Keep Me In Your Heart for frangelica (and anyone else 'cause it's one of the best songs ever).

I just dreamt of my former apartment coming apart at the seems and me having to kill a rabid dog that was attacking me by showing a broom stick down its throat.

Oddly I was relatively nonplussed by any of this. And am still.

I'm not nonplussed about much else today.

ETA for Quote of the Day:

eschewsv says, "Powerball teabagged my dollar"

First, I'm officially 240 posts behind on my flist and slowly catching up. So I'm not ignoring you and your life, I'm just procrastinating a little by living my own instead of reading LJ.

Toyota "accidentally" reported me as 30 days late on my (totaled) car payment to the credit bureaus. I'm on a RAMPAGE. You don't even know. Mothahfuckers don't know who they are fucking with.

My dishwasher be broken (but still under warrentee¹).

I think I injured my left shoulder somehow. It aches all the time since Sunday. After Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Tramadol, Soma, heating pad, and bed even.

Mysterio decided it was time for his quasi-annual walk-about and has officially been MIA for 48 hours now. It got down in the teens temperature-wise last night so I'm hoping he's savvy enough to know how to hole up. In the past I've been beside myself when he goes AWOL like this, but for some reason I'm feeling pretty content that he's doing just fine (frozen scrotum aside of course).

grandpasweiner: You have to read this book I'm reading. Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex

mauveine: Do you want to be my date for a "low-key get together" on Christmas Day Eve here at my place where we will play games and eat and drink? Or how about you eschewv?

Salmon, asparagus, some jiggling, and The Grudge with tferguson tonight.

Work tomorrow and Saturday. It's hectic but I still really like it.

¹ The word I can NEVER remember how to spell no matter how many times I look it up.

I need to find my quest!

Any suggestions?
What's yours?

I am mentally composing my top five pop sensation 'all i want is bed' (to the tune of u2's 'all i want is you'). Got any lyric suggestions?

this line means:

"Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya"